


The Classics

by ApolloAttraction



Category: White Collar
Genre: Frottage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-03-07 21:36:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3184028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApolloAttraction/pseuds/ApolloAttraction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What followed after the infamous gold-platter event.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Classics

Matthew Keller sat on the edge of the the hotel bed and watched the door. He held his knife in his hand and flicked it open. He flicked it shut. Open again. It was something to keep his hands busy when he was restless and had nothing to do. It was a nervous habit. It was him debating whether or not to _stab_ Neal as soon as he saw the other conman's face. It was him wishing Neal would _hurry_ up because it had been twenty minutes since they split up and he should be back already.

The door knob jiggled. Keller gripped the knife tightly on the off chance that it wasn't Neal about to walk in.

The door opened just wide enough for Neal to slip inside of the room. He grimaced as he spotted Keller, “This place is crawling with gaurds now; do they even know about the con or is this just because they caught me with the Princess?” 

“Oh, so you do remember the con?” A sharp edge to Keller's voice made Neal pause on his way across the room. “The one you almost blew because you couldn't leave a pretty face alone?” He made a clicking noise with his tongue and stood up. Now that he new Neal was alright, the concern ebbed away and left only agitation.

Neal laughed and shrugged, “Come on.” He expected Keller to ease up, to crack a smile or anything. Instead, he kept his mouth shut. Neal tried again: “You saw her; she was  _perfect._ A lot more than a pretty face.”

Keller stood up and pointed the knife at Neal. “You've been tripping over yourself for every halfway decent broad that walks in your vicinity ever since you and Kate went on the mend.” He flung his arms open, “This isn't the first time it's landed you in shit either, but you keep going like a dog that needs to be fixed. You want to blow your cover? Fine!” He flung his hand to emphasize his point, completely oblivious to the fact that he was still holding the knife; Neal, on the otherhand, was watching the knife with growing concern. “Go ahead; blow your life on a girl who isn't even thinking about you anymore, but I'm not going down with this ship, Caffrey, and you need to get that through your pretty little head before I put it in there for you.” Keller punctuated the last few words with a few harsh steps forward, backing Neal against the door and letting the knife rest on the other conman's chest like an accusing finger.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Neal held his hands up in surrender and met Keller's eyes. “I think we just need to take a deep breath, get rid of this,” he grabbed Keller's wrist with one hand and pulled the knife away with the other, “And talk about this like reasonable men.”

Keller pulled away and started laughing. “Reasonable men?” He ran a hand through his dishevelled hair. “That's great, Caffrey, but you can take your Gatsby routine elsewhere; you don't have any buyers here.”

“Gatsby?” Neal repeated, sounding ever so slightly offended.

“I serious,” Keller said and turned back to face the other man. “Get out. Come back when I don't want to punch you.”

“What?” Neal's eyes widened and he grabbed Keller's shoulder, “You can't be serious! There's hundreds of police and palace gaurds out there right now.”

“And whose fault is that?” Keller bit back and shrugged off Neal's hand.

Neal watched him for a moment, stunned. Then resolutely asked: “Can I at least grab a shower? Or a shirt?” His daring escape from the princess's balcony and through the bushes below hadn't been the easiest. He managed to steal a pair of pants from some poor civilian's clothesline, but not much else.

Keller looked over Neal's body then met his eyes. “No. Now get out before I knock you out.”

Neal stood still for a moment, then rolled his eyes in defeat and left with a quipped, “Thanks for saving me, by the way. I'll try not to get shot while I'm out.”

Keller scoffed, then let out a barking laughing. He grabbed the night table between the two single beds and overturned it. “Stupid, second rate idiot,” The lamp on the table hit the floor with a thud. The shade was knocked askew and it had unplugged from the wall, but it was otherwise fine. Keller kicked it. “Idiot's going to get himself killed,” he muttered. 

He picked his knife up from the desk Neal had set it on and flicked it open and closed. He pressd the back of the blade to the edge of his thumb, careful not to nick himself as he ran his fingers along the side. It was another nervous tick. He was still antsy, still wanted to destroy things, to scream and to pack everything and leave. He threw the knife and let it land squarely in the wall. Paying some hotel damages wouldn't put a dent in the score that he and Neal would settle with the rubies they stole.

He could have it all if he skipped town without the other man. Neal wouldn't chase him, and if he did, he wouldn't have anything to threaten him with (no guns can really hinder your ability to ensure loyalty.) Neal wasn't acting like himself, though. Kate had left him (again) and disappeared to do whatever she did when she was on her own. Keller had always been jealous of their rapport and he hadn't cared (had even been a little happy) when she left them a little note and vanished just like the manic little pixie she'd always been.

Neal on the other hand was distraught, of course, until about two weeks later when he was “over her” and into everything that would open its legs. Keller himself was a bit of a sex addict, but Neal had far eclipsed him in that respect lately. And the  _type_ of girls the conman was after. Keller scoffed to himself as he thought about. If two beautiful girls walked into the room, both offering to show him a good time, Neal would choose the one in which a 'good time' resulted in gunshots. The same thing had happened that night. 

If Keller hadn't heard the guards- hadn't ran to distract them, because only a particular kind of bastard would try to seduce a princess in the middle of a country that valued virtue- then Neal would've ended up a lot more  _holey_ . 

Keller groaned and shut his eyes. He should just leave; Neal was too self-destructive to be a good partner right now. He remembered the way the other conman stood on the balcony, golden platter held over his dick with one hand while he held up the other in surrender and tried to explain away the situation. That mouth could talk its way out of anything, usually, but this time his bumbling attempts were almost met with bullets. If only Neal carried a gun. If only he could keep his mouth shut and his pants on. If only Neal would find safer people to get under while he gets over Kate. Keller smirked at that last thought.

Without guilt, without remorse, he let one hand move south and rest between his legs. It wasn't the first time he'd entertained these kinds of thoughts. It wouldn't be the last. He rubbed himself through the fabric of his jeans as he thought back over the night and froze his thoughts on Neal on the blacony. His hair was tousled and his skin glistened with sweat from his last round of sex with the princess. Neal might not have been more of a lover than a fighter, but he had muscle and it was all tensed and flexed as he watched the guns the gaurds pointed at him. His perfect lips, rambling on and on. Keller could think of better things that mouth could do. It would probably do them better, too. 

He popped the button on his pants and pulled himself out of their confines. He moaned softly as he took long, languid strokes and imagine Neal's head between his legs, doing things with that silver tongue that would make even rubies seem worthless. His head lolled against the headboad and he panted as he stroked harder. 

The door opened. “Look, I'm sorry I got carried away with the princess, but-” Neal stopped as he realized what he'd walked in on. “Well, I'm really sorry now,” he commented and averted his eyes. “I'll come back later and try again.”

“Stay, Caffrey.” Keller ordered as Neal turn to leave. “I could use a little more fuel for the fantasy.”

Neal stopped and looked over his shoulder in surprise and disbelief, “What?”

“You heard me,” Keller winked. “I've got a pretty good idea what you're like and what turns you on. You and Kate aren't quiet when you fuck. You like it rough. Give more than you get. Those handcuffs aren't just for lock-picking practice, either.” He smirked, still stroking himself as he watched Neal, eye's raking over the other man's partially exposed body. Except for a light blush- probably more embarassed about being less sneaky than he thought rather than what he'd been overheard doing- Neal looked Nearly unphased. Except for one telling thing: he wasn't talking. “Speechless?” Keller grinned.

“I'm not- I just-” Neal started, first cutting himself off, then getting cut off by Keller.

“I could do you better than her.” Keller's grin fell to a smug smirk. He knew that this might be over-stepping, but Neal didn't say or do anything and he hadn't _left_ yet, so Keller pressed on. “I could fuck you so hard you wouldn't be able to _walk_. You wouldn't be able to _talk_. I'd teard you apart and you'd beg for more. You know you would, Caffrey.”

The light blush on Neal's cheeks darkened. “Matt, I-” He swallowed, his throat feeling dry. He should leave. He should find someone else. He should stop walking toward Keller because there's no way this  _won't_ end in distaster. Still, he found himself sitting down on the edge of Keller's bed while the debauched man grins. Neal hesitated because somewhere in the back of his head he  _knew_ this wasn't a good idea. Then he leaned down and kissed Keller. He could feel the shorter man grin against the grin and nipped his bottom lip. “Stop that,” he muttered between the bite and the next kiss.

“Or what?” Kelled challenged. 

“Or I won't play with you anymore,” Neal teased as his hand trailed down to Keller's erection. Keller's hand let go so that Neal's could take its place; he moaned when the blue-eyed conman slid his thumb over the sensitive head before stroking at a too-slow pace.

Keller groaned and shifted. “Do you make Kate wait this long, too?”

Neal jerked his hand a little harshly and whispered into Keller's ear: “Stop talking about her.”

“My bad,” Keller laughed. “I should be paying more attention to you.” He reached over and slid his hand down the too-big pants that Neal wore. It was an awkward angle, but he could still stroke and fondle well enough to get Neals cock to stand proud. Neal moaned and tried to roll his hips into the touch. “You _always_ sound like an angel,” Keller mocked. Before Neal could protest, he leaned up and locked their lips together again.

Neal pulled away and shucked off his pants before straddling Keller. At a gesture, Keller wigged down so that he was laying on the bed instead of propper against the head board. Neal lined their dicks up and wrapped one hand around them. They both moaned as he thrust, sending delicious friction to all the right places. They kissed and panted and thrust together as they got nearer to the end. It was sloppy, unplanned. It wasn't timed and Keller came first and Neal continued to milk him until he finally caught up and finished as well.

He laid down beside Keller and draped an arm across the other man's chest. After a few moments of silence, Neal said softly, “I really am sorry about the princess; that was reckless.”

Keller rolled his eyes. “We'll laugh about it one day. Besides, I'm more pissed about my shirt at this point.”

“Your shirt?” Neal raised an eyebrow and looked down at the fabric. Yea, that was going to stain. He laughed. Keller closed his eyes and breathed.

“Hey, Matt,” Neal started.

Keller groaned. “You can't be a  _cuddler_ and a  _talker_ , Neal; pick one.”

“Last thing, promise,” Neal said with a grin. “If I'm Gatsby, then you're Dorian.”

It took a moment for Keller to figure out what the other conman was getting at. When he did he sighed. “Shut up, Caffrey.”

**Author's Note:**

> I figured that this scene would have sparked thousands of slash fics between these two. I've only seen a few. So, here's my take on the infamous platter scene and why it went down and what happened afterward. I've never written for this fandom before so please forgive me.


End file.
